re:The Son of Neptune
by Operiet
Summary: Percy's memory is a blank slate. It doesn't help that he's thrown into a world full of things trying to kill him. The only clues of his past are the beaded necklace and the girl calling herself a goddess, Artemis. Artemis is lost. She was ordered to help Percy but ends up more involved than she expected. Now she's part of a quest with him to reclaim what New Rome lost long ago.
1. Chapter 1

I

ARTEMIS

NOTE TO SELF: When you get roped into doing favors for your stepmother, said favors tend to involve fights to the death, saving demigods from suicide missions, and also breaking almost every single rule daddy ever laid out.

Artemis realized this a step too late. And now she was in a predicament. The path she currently looked to walk down was a very treacherous, unforgiving one with many possible forks that could lead to her world's demise.

Her gloomy expression stared back at her from the small lake she sat in front of. She wore her dark green cloak over a silver tunic and black leggings, a quiver hung from her back, and her bow was strung on one shoulder. The reflection on the water's surface of the goddess, resting on her heels with her arms wrapped about her legs, felt somewhat distant from her—detached. She felt weary despite not looking the part. Her eyes—tired and downcast—held traces of doubt, worry, hesitation.

Artemis hadn't felt this lost in awhile. Probably not since the death of Zoe Nightshade, her former lieutenant. But even then, she had found a direction when Thalia entered her circle of companions as a Hunter. The daughter of Zeus was as straight as an arrow and she led as such, demonstrating great leadership and power, as well as focus. Artemis was sure that even at this moment, her second-in-command was carrying the Hunt forward.

However, she herself was still at a standstill—stuck at a crossroads, attempting to gauge each of the many different paths before her.

She stared at her expression in the lake. When was the last time, she was able to show any other emotion besides pain, misery, and worry? Too long. She couldn't remember. Peace was a faraway entertaining thought. So long as the splitting headache due to her Roman and Greek side continued to wage a mental war in her skull, the grimace on her face was there to stay.

Her situation had become rather difficult over the past few months. She had decided to break her father's rules of no mortal contact, no direct involvement in mortal affairs, and no leaving Olympus, by doing all of the above. She had run across her stepmother, Hera, on one of her solo hunting expeditions. And from there, Artemis had become a player in the Queen's death game—this insane plan of swapping demigods from the two different camps. Coerced into becoming an accomplice in the scheme, forced to assist the goddess of marriage by directing her Hunters to Jason Grace, she was now determined to see this through.

Needless to say, daddy wasn't pleased.

The only reason she hadn't been hauled back to Olympus was because Zeus had to adhere to his very own rules of isolationism from the mortal world. Once everything was over, dad will forgive her. Hopefully. He had always let her off easy in the past.

Without the presence of her Hunters, the strangling feeling of loneliness invaded her chest, clenching at her heart. She did not regret sending her lieutenant, Thalia, and the rest to meet up with Jason; she owed it to Thalia to let her meet with her long-lost brother. But what wouldn't she give to share a campfire with her fellow maidens right now.

She looked towards the East, wondering how her brother, Apollo, was faring. With the loss of prophecy, he might be worse off than she was when next they meet their father. Apparently something else had wrested control of the Oracle of Delphi from the sun god. He hadn't been very keen to explain when she asked so she hadn't pressed. But whatever it was that had stolen the Oracle was no doubt formidable. And with the gods in their current state, constantly fighting with dual personality issues and the migraines that come with it, with the demigods completely cut off from Olympus, it didn't seem like they could do much.

She sighed. If Gaea wakes, father's punishment would be the least of their worries. And as for her brother, he would have to look after himself. Right now, she had to make sure that Hera's plan didn't end up self-destructing with the Romans and Greeks at each other's throats. Thalia would also be devastated if her friend, Percy Jackson, ended up dead because of a misunderstanding.

It was a desperate gamble. Also probably their best bet to win versus the Earth. But the more she thought about it, the worse her headache got.

Artemis bit her lip. She had decided to act instead of sitting back and watching from her throne on Mount Olympus. Like it or not, she was a player in this war now. She mustn't let her headache incapacitate her. The amount of influence she was about to have would break the rules of being a goddess. "Accompany him, not from afar but as a companion. Keep a close eye on the boy." That was what Hera had said. For some reason, that gave her an uncertain feeling in her chest. Like her stepmother was somehow wary of Percy; admittedly the son of Poseidon had a tendency to be unpredictable but Hera made him sound almost dangerous to both sides. Nevertheless, she had promised Thalia to keep Percy safe; the task would prove to be a lot easier if she were beside him. And even without the promise or Hera's orders, she would still be determined to protect that man's life.

He had put her under a debt she had yet to fully repay—maybe she'll never repay it. From saving her from the weight of the sky, earning the respect of her former second-in-command, Zoe Nightshade, defeating Kronos in the Second Titan War. He was a contradiction to her view on men. Maybe if she had met him long, long ago—

Suddenly, a howl broke the night, interrupting her musings. A wisp of cloud crept over the moon, darkening the scenery around her. A hush fell over the now obscure landscape as if the place was holding its breath. A sudden chill ran down Artemis' spine and she felt eyes on the back of her neck. She stood up slowly, stretching as if unaware. And then vanished into thin air, reappearing atop a branch of a tall tree towards the left side of where she sensed the intruding presence. She looked at the ground where she had previously stood. At first she couldn't see it, then the clouds uncovered the moonlight and the glint of a celestial bronze needle came into sight, sticking out of the dirt. The vegetation around the small, deadly weapon crumbled to dust.

Poison. Not enough to actually kill. But plenty to incapacitate an unaware goddess.

The method was cold, calculated. The execution had been sloppy. The enemy's lapse in focus had allowed her to sense the hostility directed towards her.

She turned her gaze towards the area where she had sensed the hostile's killing intent. Nothing moved. Nothing showed. Not a sound. She concentrated. And the eyes and ears of the forest—birds, canines, dryads, naiads alike—opened for her. From an owl, she caught a glimpse of glowing red eyes before the bird was killed. In that split second, she had fired a rain of arrows at the location.

A grunt of annoyance reached the ears of a dryad near the onslaught. To be able to kill and then evade on such short notice and yet the inability to hide one's presence. Something did not add up. Was she made aware of their presence on purpose? This was bad. The feeling of uneasiness felt tangible, permeating the air. She couldn't help but have a sneaking suspicion that this assassin had been sent to stop her. Someone didn't want her to interfere. Someone didn't want her near Percy. And they were willing to launch a foolish attack in a place where she would have the upper hand.

The faint hiss of wind alerted her to another needle streaking her way. But she was already on the move, constantly switching to different vantage points atop the trees. The unknown assailant was persistent. But something was off. These attacks were almost—

Artemis fired another flurry of arrows from where the needle had been shot as she danced atop the trees. Every now and then she would catch sight of a running shadow or the lifeless red eyes of the shadow's owner. At some point in this deadly hide-and-seek, the assassin had switched to arrows. And like the needles, they were laced with poison. Artemis had abandoned her advantage of high ground amongst the branches of trees. She needed to end this or else the whole forest would end up dead.

She had wounded her attacker. Whoever her opponent was, they were not mortal; droplets of golden ichor dotted the forest floor from where her arrows had grazed them. Was she up against one of Gaea's giants? Countless thoughts on the possibilities of the identity of her assailant raced through her mind. This immortal was an experienced killer, adept in the ways of ushering various nasty deaths. There was a certain sickening familiarity to the patterns of the killer. That familiarity was helping her in tracking and weakening her target, but it also wanted to make her throw up.

They were both running up one of the many high hills that surrounded Mount Tamalpais now. Artemis wondered how long this game of cat-and-mouse had already lasted as she flitted in and out of the cover of trees. She was also surprised at the lack of monsters. Especially since they were nearing the Titan stronghold. It was strange.

A lion came leaping out of nowhere.

It rammed into her side, sending her tumbling down the hill only to be stopped as her back hit the base of a tree. She cursed, rolling into a crouch with her bow drawn. She glared at her tackler. The lion growled back at her. And suddenly the blood lust cleared from her eyes. Her adrenaline faded. She regarded the lion once again and realized. It was one of Hera's sacred animals. Their eyes met, the lion seemed satisfied as it snarled a final time before going on its way.

Clearheaded now, Artemis searched the hills for the assassin through the eyes of passing flocks of birds and spotted the shadow just before it was swallowed by the Earth—as if it had never been there. As if it had accomplished its objective. The uneasiness turned to dread. It had been a distraction. The attacks had been made half-heartedly as if the killer knew that it wouldn't succeed. The very idea of challenging the goddess of the Hunt to a hunting game was questionable. However, the ambush hadn't been a game of death. Instead they served a different purpose: to draw the moon goddess' attention and keep her busy along this wild goose chase.

Anger started to bubble to the surface. But she kept it under control. She was certain now that Gaea or someone affiliated with the earth goddess did not want her at the Roman Camp or with Percy. She also had a sinking feeling that the reason why there were scarcely any monsters around was because they were being mobilized elsewhere. That elsewhere being the Camp.

She needed to hurry.

There was a rumble of thunder. She looked to the skies. The clouds looked as if they were being sucked into a black hole in the distance, funneling into a vortex in the horizon.

That was probably Gaea's welcoming party sounding the go-ahead. It was time to move. She tried to see the "distance"—not in space but in time. No luck. Hopefully, the son of the sea wasn't being made into a seafood dish by the Giants yet. Hopefully, the Romans hadn't found him wandering near their Camp and put him to the sword yet. Hopefully, she would make it in time to save both Thalia's best friend and the Camp from themselves and the earth's forces.

She blew her hunting horn, summoning her silver chariot. Lightning flashed once across the night, thunder followed, she tried to not worry about it. As she rose into the air, flying through the sky, Artemis glanced out at Mount Tam and then at the swirling storm where Gaea's forces marched toward New Rome, and turned her chariot toward Camp. She felt apprehensive, almost giddy. Things were beginning to progress more rapidly.

The pieces Hera had hastily set were beginning to move.

A geyser of seawater erupted from the direction of Camp Jupiter. Percy was fighting for his life. He could probably deal with most of the enemies that Gaea sent him but no doubt the earth goddess had a plan to kill or capture him. The curse of Achilles would protect him for the most part. But he was not immune from fatigue or poison gas. And if they had a giant or a sorcerer with them…

The goddess of the moon sighed. Stepmothers and their stupid schemes. Why not deliver the man directly to the Romans with a recommendation? Why the subtleties?

"Please. Let me make it in time."

-I-

Note: This fan fiction is a rewrite of The Son of Neptune fan fiction that I wrote ages ago.


	2. Chapter 2

II

PERCY

BEING CHASED ACROSS CALIFORNIA BY ALL THE KING'S MEN wasn't exactly what Percy had in mind when he had left the Wolf House three days ago. He thought he'd just take a bus or a taxi to Camp. When monsters greeted him at the bus stop, he realized maybe he wasn't cut out for public transportation.

Maybe all of this monsters-out-to-kill-you gig was just another day in the life of Percy Jackson. He didn't know. Or rather he couldn't remember—anything past his time at the Wolf House was a blank.

He had woken up from what felt like a very deep sleep. He'd opened his eyes blearily to the sharp visage of a she-wolf just inches from his face. It didn't do his heart any favors to say the least. He had tried playing dead in vain, much to the amusement of the wolf goddess. That was how Percy had met Lupa, goddess of Rome, mother of Romulus and Remus.

He had tried asking Lupa about his past but she would only respond with carefully cryptic words. He had clues of his previous life on his persons. There was the bead necklace and his pen that can turn into a bronze sword.

It was unclear how much time Percy had spent at the Wolf House, living amongst the wolves; time felt different there—almost suspended. Lupa taught him the ways of the pack, how to hunt, how to survive. She sharpened his instincts in battle, molding him into a hunter—into a wolf of her pack. From sun rise to sun set, she would train him like a Spartan—er Roman—in the wilderness near the House.

When the day was done, she would tell stories of Rome. He would listen to tales of Aeneas and his journey from Troy, guided by the gods to set the foundations of what would become Rome. He learned of the seven kings, of the Triumvirates, of the emperors, the rise and fall of many figures. The bed-time stories the she-wolf would reminisce about fascinated Percy. He couldn't quite pin down why he was so interested. It just felt as if he had become tied to the history, as if Lupa had entrusted a piece of Rome's legacy to him.

And then, after she was satisfied that she had taught all that she knew, Lupa sent him on his way—to find the Roman demigod camp.

The trip south to Camp Jupiter would have been a breeze...for a regular mortal. The thought that the son of Neptune, strolling around by himself to bus-stops or shopping districts, might attract hordes of monsters didn't seem to cross Percy's mind when he left Lupa's protection.

And then the bus-stop incident happened. And then the supermarket-checkout incident happened. And that police thing happened.

Monsters everywhere.

Wherever he went, there seemed to be some hideous creature leering at him from a corner. Sometimes they found him. Sometimes he found them. From the confusingly nostalgic Monster Donut shops to the many-headed sea monsters that seemed to be in every body of water...to the homunculi that were currently chasing after him through the dead of night, there was never a moments rest since Percy left the House.

He couldn't quite figure out why he was so unlucky.

The monsters claimed that they could "smell" him. But Percy wasn't sure what they meant. He'd tried covering his scent with deodorant, perfume—he even tried caking himself in mud. Nothing seemed to stop them from finding him. It was like they had a GPS for locking in on demigods. 'Travel 1.5 miles, turn right, and continue for 3 miles, you will find one nice and juicy demigod to your left!'

Honestly, he was at his wit's end.

But now it seemed at long last, his journey was drawing to an end. Percy could somehow feel that the Camp was close—like a little homing device in his gut. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes. He had very quickly discovered that the monsters couldn't hurt him for some reason. Fangs, claws, weapons—they all just bounced harmlessly off of him as if his skin were made out of some indestructible material. It had saved his life countless times already. He had tried sleeping in the midst of monsters feverishly hacking and gnawing away at him.

He did not sleep well.

He didn't ever want to wake up drowning in monster saliva with his clothes shredded again. He didn't ever want to wake up in the claws of some flying beast hundreds of meters above the earth. And he did not ever want to wake up having to cut his way out of the belly of a beast or sea monster or other. Never again.

Percy continued running. His legs burned as he ran up the umpteenth hill. His mind was still figuring out how to work, the brain struggling to turn its many cogs that provided mental function. Run. Being chased. Camp. Near. Sleep. Ah.

Percy face-planted into the ground. It took a few seconds to register but he soon realized he had tripped over something as he was running in the dark. Groaning, he pushed himself up. He checked himself. Nothing seemed broken or sprained. The pen sword was still in his pocket. Rummaging into his backpack, he found a flashlight and turned it on. His internal radar was telling him that Camp was basically in front of him. Just a few miles…At this point, it didn't really matter if the flashlight could be a beacon for the monsters—they were able to "smell" him anyway—he just hoped that maybe some Campers on the lookout for demigods running for their lives would see the light and come pick him up.

A crackle of lightning split the skies, followed by thunder. He looked up to see funnel clouds swirling about in a vortex almost right above him. The ground shook or maybe it was him; Percy couldn't tell. Not good.

He looked behind him.

They were close. This morning—or rather yesterday's morning—after he had ditched the police car he borrowed from two Lamia posing as cops, Percy had been accosted again by these humanoid things made out of mud. They had been pursuing him ever since.

"There he is!" Speak of the devils. He cursed and turned around, uncapping the pen in his pocket. The bronze pen sword seemed to glow from the light of his flashlight.

There, before him, stood three misshapen figures of earth. Their forms changed frequently, rippling into deadly talons, wings, tentacles. The light of the moon danced in and out of sight amongst the impending storm in the skies, casting eerie angles onto the golem creatures that approached Percy. The Mist around them were strong. But now that there were no mortals around, their grotesque appearances were in full display.

All three looked like they came straight out of a horror story.

A hooded goliath with a scythe-like hook towered over Percy to his left, multiple cold green eyes glowed from underneath the hood. He could hear odd whispering sounds from across its body and had a sickening image of multiple mouths hissing and salivating underneath the ragged cloak.

The abomination to his right didn't look any better. At one glance, it looked like an angel of black obsidian—with its black wings outspread, the night seemed to grow darker. On closer inspection, he could see agonized faces writhing across the surface except for the head. There were no features where the face should have been—only a gaping maw. It had tentacles for its right hand which wrapped around a broadsword the size of a truck—the weapon looked to be made from human bones. Its left arm was a third wing that could cover its entire body.

Before the two nightmares on either side, the figure in the middle almost had Percy disappointed at how normal it looked—so normal and ordinary that it could almost pass for a human. It wore Roman armor and a mask under the helmet—probably could've fit right in a Renaissance festival...except for the fact that green glowing veins covered its body like vines. He seemed to be the leader of the three as when he raised a careless hand, the other two froze like statues.

"You put up a good effort, Perseus Jackson," the middle man rasped. "Put us on quite a wild goose chase. But you should be on your last leg by now. When was the last time you slept?"

"Thanks for your concern. Didn't think you cared so much." Percy edged back, maintaining the distance between him and his pursuers, trying to keep all three in vision. "By any chance, could you let me off just this once? I promise I'll come and play tag again at a later date."

Captain Hook to his left hissed with a cackle, and the rags wrapped about its body rippled. Percy was now convinced there were more gaping maws underneath it. The Roman soldier in the middle regarded Percy with amused sickly green eyes that glowed in the darkness. "Oh, no, Jackson. We have yet to return your hospitality."

"I'll pass on your return," Percy , eyes darting around. How to get out of this mess? The smell of the ocean came as the storm overhead picked up. He glanced in the direction of the sea. If he could get to water…

"Ah, yes. You could escape to the seas." The knight seemed to have read his thoughts. "We would be unable to reach you in your father's domain neither would any of Gaea's forces of course." The wingman to his right snarled but the knight ignored it and continued, "You would escape your destiny: the prophecy of Seven. You would become a spectator to the greatest war since the first giant wars."

"And watch as the world burns from the Earth Mother's rage," Hook finished, its voice—or voices to be more accurate—somewhat disembodied. "Watch as your friends, your family, the gods die."

"It would be a beautiful spectacle to see." The knight agreed.

"Not a chance." Percy said quietly. He couldn't remember any of his friends or family. And maybe he would never remember. But just standing by as the people the former Percy Jackson knew died was out of the question. Not to mention the world was at stake apparently.

It also meant that one possible path to escape was cut off. Running for the refuge of the seas meant running from the War. He would be turning his back on Camp and the possibility of regaining his memories. He would be turning his back on his friends and family that he would never know. He couldn't do that.

"Admirable—choosing to die with your friends rather than living alone." The apparent leader of the three acknowledged. "But foolish." He raised a finger as if a thought struck him. "There is a third option."

"And what's that?" Percy was happy for anything that could stall out the time at this point. Camp was so close. There had to be somebody on watch that had caught sight of the commotion. Three monsters were practically looming at their doorstep.

"My king may offer you, your friends, and your family a sanctuary. Give fealty to my lord and he may grant you freedom."

"And what of Gaea? Aren't you one of her lackeys? I'm pretty sure she wants everything that has to do with the gods dead." Any time now, lookouts.

The knight actually laughed. "I serve my king and no one else. My lord just has a sort of...partnership with Mother Earth." He gestured at himself and the other two. "We were given temporary vessels as part of a deal. After Gaea and her Giants tear Olympus down from the skies, she promised us bodies of flesh and territory."

"Gaea doesn't care whether we spare a few mortals. She just wants you out of the way."

"And by joining you guys, I would be out of her way?" Percy caught the gleam of gold from the corner of his eye. It was so brief that he wondered if he imagined it. He hoped not. Reinforcements right about now would be great. He didn't know how long he could keep them talking.

The king's vassal shrugged. "We share a common goal...for now."

"I see." Percy lowered his sword, feinting hesitation. Silence filled the air as he pretended to contemplate his decisions. The three in front of him stood there unmoving.

There was a fierce howling of wind and forecast overhead darkened. Lightning split the skies; it lit the skies and the black vortex above him. Thunder boomed over the mountains. The ground started to shudder and rumbling could be heard in the distance.

"It seems time has run out," the leader remarked. "Gaea's forces will be upon the Camp soon." He reached out a beckoning hand. "Your answer, Son of Neptune? Will you not join the King's men?"

Percy stared down at his sword arm. It was trembling from fatigue. His head had started spinning again. The guy was right about one thing: he was on his last legs. He hadn't been able to catch another glimpse of gold in the darkness. Maybe it really had been a hallucination. But he had to bet on it.

He met the mud man's gaze. It seemed to understand. "That's just too bad. I had thought that we could have you come willingly. How unfortunate." The two horrors on either side of him lunged forward with frightening speed.

Riptide pierced the ground as Percy buried the sword to its hilt. He let out a shout that he himself couldn't hear and called for the power of Neptune that ran in his blood. The world spun faster. There was a tug in his gut. And then sea engulfed everything.

-II-

Thanks for reading. I'll try posting character designs and other pictures relating to the chapters when I get the chance on wattpad. Leave a review if you have the time. Thanks again.


	3. Chapter 3

III

Percy

BREAKING NEWS: Hurricane Percy becomes the first recorded tropical cyclone to ever hit the west coast. Massive flooding and high winds ravage northern California. Authorities have issued a state of emergency, imploring the citizens in affected areas to not partake in any outdoor activities. This includes: backyard barbecues, walking the dog, beach parties, outside sports...

Thoughts of what tomorrow's headlines could be flashed through Percy's mind—the part of his mind that wasn't screaming unintelligibly as his body flailed around, subjected to what felt like a Sea World ride gone horribly wrong. He done goofed. Making a high octane storm of death near the west coast was probably not the brightest thing to do, especially not on the doorstep of the Roman camp one was fleeing to. He blamed the swirling vortex in the sky for giving him ideas.

For some reason, there was a sense of déjà vu in all of this. But he quickly brushed that off. It wasn't like he had done something similar in the past...right? The daily life of Percy Jackson surely did not involve creating natural disasters, property damage, and possible civilian casualties.

No, don't be ridiculous. Gods forbid.

Several small, uprooted trees slammed into his side, sending one unfortunate demigod spiraling through the whirling waters. Definitely a Sea World ride gone wrong all right. The current game of underwater pinball needed to stop. While his physical body seemed impervious to almost any form of damage, his mental health was not. It was becoming difficult to tell up from down.

Percy willed the eye of the storm to center on him. Immediately, the violence of the sea subsided. No more flying trees. No more Sea World pinball.

Back to trying to run—uh, swim—for his life. If he remembered right, there were extraordinary terrestrials on his tail. With any luck, the three stooges were experiencing firsthand the insides a food blender. One can only hope.

He shot up like a corkscrew, breaking the surface of the recently demigod-made lake. Several pairs of glowing green eyes greeted him.

Did he wrong Lady Luck somewhere down the line before he developed amnesia?

"I'll admit: I didn't think you had this much left in the tank." Green tendrils lifted the king's ambassador high in the air. His literal wing-man hovered beside him, obsidian-black wings extended. The hooded abomination was nowhere to be seen. Earth gathered in the leader's hand, forming a crude sword, its jagged tip inches away from Percy's throat. "That strength will prove very useful to our king."

"You guys don't know when to quit." Riptide shone defiantly in the wavering moonlight. "I assumed the hurricane would speak for itself but let me spell it out for you: I don't want to join your little freak show."

"It's three to one. You can either surrender peacefully or die pitifully. At least, you might have a chance to save your friends if you are alive."

"I'm not sure if you've noticed but hooked hoodie isn't with you guys anymore. Maybe he's taking the long trek back all the way from Tartarus." Percy regarded the two. "And besides, notice the change of scenery?" He gestured around him at the ongoing tempest. "We're in my arena now."

"Last chance, Jackson." The tone of the tendril soldier changed; the once soft spoken voice of reason was now sharp as a razor wire. "And I don't mean this as a threat."

There was a brief pause before the leader lowered his sword in a failed attempt to seem less threatening.

"Have you any idea what the rebound your little stunt will have on your body once you leave the water? Any more of these wild antics and you're all but guaranteed a one way trip to the Underworld. Not even Achilles' curse can protect you from self-combustion."

"What are you? My mother?" Percy chuckled. He couldn't help but notice his laughter sounded an octave too high. The tendril man's words had an uncomfortable ring of truth. He was on a high right now—a high with a very steep drop. Even now, with his physical strength restored, the mental fatigue of the past week remained. It was like a rubber band drawn taut, stretched to the breaking point.

He looked down at his reflection in the water. Despite all the science behind it, Percy still found it weird how at the center of the storm everything was so calm—like finding a peaceful meadow in the middle of a dense, violent forest. The sudden change of pace was disconcerting.

A droplet of crimson hit the surface of the calm waters, its ripples pulsed with the rhythm of a war drum. The same drum that throbbed in his temple—his vision flashed red. The same drum that beat in his chest, pounding away like a hammer to anvil. When the disturbance cleared, he found a weary teen staring back from under the water, rivulets of blood flowing down from his nose.

The water was so inviting. Maybe a little nap on the sea floor wouldn't be so bad.

Not good.

"It's three to one," the king's knight repeated, green eyes staring pointedly at the ripple of blood blossoming under the water's surface. If a lifeless mask could wear an 'I-told-you-so' expression, it would be wearing one now. "Restrain him."

Suddenly, he was swallowed from behind by a landslide. Mouths with gnashing teeth and fangs the size of daggers tore at impervious demigod flesh. The cacophony of anguished voices moaned from all around the son of Neptune. Thousands of smoldering green eyes bore into Percy, fixing onto him with such terrible intensity. The third member of the king's misfits must have come from behind.

Cursing at his lack of awareness, Percy slashed at his living cage but his movements felt sluggish. Then he realized: he wasn't in the water. The sudden wave of exhaustion and pain hit him harder than the impact of a 40-ton truck against a brick wall. The metallic taste of iron rose from his throat. His vision grew hazy. Time slowed. The visage of a great she-wolf came into clarity for a second, then it was gone—replaced by the glowing green galaxy with its myriad of gaping mouths.

The earth started to seep into his body. Was it trying to eat away at him from the inside?

Somewhere outside the nightmarish confinement, the leader of the king's envoys was roaring in frustration. The living cage recoiled from Percy, the anguished moaning, snarling, hissing, shrieking reached an earsplitting pitch. At some point, Percy joined the chorus of screams, yelling as he attempted to move his aching body.

Then he was free, floating spread-eagle on his back in the waters again, retching furiously. Strength returned for the second time albeit to a lesser degree. Above him, the abomination that was once his prison had been split open by the obsidian angel's great sword.

"What do you think you are doing? The vessel must remain intact. Disobey the king's orders again and I'll send you back to Tartarus myself." Percy's ears, ringing as they were, perked up. Vessel? That word fell heavy and cold over his thoughts like a coffin of ice, a suffocating space no different from the recent confines of the earthen monstrosity.

"He refused allegiance to the king. You said it yourself that the alternative was death."

"Read between the lines, you oaf. That was just a negotiating technique. Carrots and sticks. I was trying to make the former idea of surrender more enticing versus the latter of a painful death. I knew I should've lent you Diplomacy 101." The leader continued on his tirade. "Once we get back, I'm adding to the group's reading list. AND we're doing book reviews."

There was a collective groan that came from the mouths of the hooked goliath. The winged humanoid slightly inclined its head. Percy wondered if the angel could read without any eyes. Did the king have books in braille?

Percy frowned, staring up at the ominous vortex that had nothing to do with the storm of his making. It was closer than before, almost looming right above them. His nerves tingled. He hurt everywhere. It was like his body had gone through a full course of Dr. Frankenstein's 1,000,000-volt shock therapy. But he needed to move. As dire as his current circumstances were, Percy's instincts warned him that if the second storm hit, the window of escape would close for good.

He tried summoning a wave. The world capsized. Stars danced in front of his eyes. It was like suddenly being placed inside a snow globe that a child was shaking furiously. His vision swayed. His ears popped. Cold began to creep into his bones. Creating a second maelstrom was probably out of the playbook. Riptide, his ball point pen/sword, dug into his thigh.

Before he could contemplate drawing his weapon, emerald vines coiled around one half-dead demigod, slowly raising Percy from the sea. He stared helplessly, upside down, at his misshapen captors. Delirium blunted the oncoming panic like a tranquilizer drug, replacing it with thoughtful madness. He wondered if he would have to participate in the review sessions of the king's book club.

The jingling of bells barely could be heard over the violence of the two storms. Wait. Bells? In his daze, Percy searched for the source. His eyes honed in on a blinding star streaking through the skies in the distance, over the shoulders of Tendril Man and his two goons. Percy squinted at this newly found object invading the dark scenery. It looked like it was coming towards them.

A volley of silver light—arrows that seemed to be molded from stars—rained down upon them. And while they bounced harmlessly off of Percy, the king's men were not so resistant. The unsuspecting eldritch horrors were Swiss cheese to the onslaught. The torrent of pointy objects tore gaping holes into flesh made of dirt and green goo.

The jingle of bells grew louder. Then—

Christmas came to visit the month of June. A deer-drawn sleigh turned Mister Hook and Tendril Man into roadkill in the weirdest drive-by/traffic violation Percy had ever witnessed. Rudolph led the charge of the North Pole brigade, followed by Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Dunder, and Blixem. Why would Saint Nick decide to visit San Francisco, California in the middle of Summer?

Before Percy could give that question much thought, a hand reached out and hauled him onto the sleigh. He collapsed unceremoniously onto his shotgun seat in a daze, staring in front of him with eyes glazed over at Rudolph and co. cantering in thin air. They flew at full deer-power away from the scene of the crime, leaving the Lovecraftian monsters to reform by themselves.

"Water," Percy gasped. "Need. Contact. Water. Or death." He could still taste blood in his mouth. But also brownies and hot cocoa. Wait, brownies and hot cocoa?

It tasted like your typical night time snack but spiked with a bajillion grams of caffeine. He realized someone was force-feeding him nectar and ambrosia.

"I'm glad to see you alive and kicking," commented a girl around his age, giving him a once over.

Percy's breath caught as their eyes met. He was like a deer in the headlights.

The person with the reins next to him was a far cry from jolly old Saint Nick. She had dark hair tied in a pony tail with a crescent moon hair pin. The girl wore modest clothing—a silver tunic with black leggings—that would still put a model to shame on the runway. There was a royal dignity in how she carried herself—a similar aura to that of Lupa. She wasn't mortal. Maybe it was the large silver bow in her hand that gave away her more-likely-non-mortal status. Or her inhuman beauty. Or maybe...the magic flying sleigh. The girl looked detached from time.

He felt somewhat betrayed. It was almost as if an older sibling had spilled the beans that there was never an old man living with elves and reindeer in the North Pole.

"You're not Santa."

"What?" The girl tilted her head in confusion. Her eyes flashed with brief annoyance, then realization, and settled on exasperation—the silver and gold of her irises shone with amusement. "No, sorry. The name is Artemis, a Legacy of Jupiter. And it's still June anyway...unfortunately." She said the month with a hint of distaste.

Legacy?

"Second generation+ of a god or goddess." She supplied, reading his mind. "Now, let us head to Camp. Hopefully it's still above sea level." Eyes like twin moons fixed pointedly on Percy. He laughed nervously.

"Um," a panicked voice interjected from behind them.

Percy jumped and whirled around. Two young demigods—a boy and a girl—in Roman armor were cowering in the backseat, clutching their gold weapons and the sleigh's railings for dear life.

The boy was firing arrows furiously at the cloud trail the sleigh left. He was of Asian descent, had a baby face, and was built like a bear. He also had a wild look in his eyes that made Percy slightly afraid for him.

The girl wasn't handling the situation any better. Her shoulder-length cinnamon hair was plastered to her olive skin from the earlier downpour of Percy's storm. Blood ran down from the side of her head, closing one eye. She was chucking what seemed to be her rock collection behind them, producing gems and other precious stones from different pockets of her jacket, her Spatha hung useless at her side.

Both were so young. 13? 15 years old? And already in the service of the Roman Legion.

The girl continued from her interjection, "Can this thing go any faster? Because there's a flying tentacle monster chasing after us and it's getting closer."

"That is a problem," Artemis admitted, frowning as she glanced back. She produced a key fob from thin air and then cut the reins, letting the deer scamper into the night. The thought of Wile E. Coyote running in thin air crossed Percy's mind as he felt his stomach plummet. Their mode of transport began to descend into a hurtling nosedive. Everyone besides Artemis screamed.

Then the sleigh changed. Metal, glass, and machinery enveloped them. Percy found himself suddenly sitting comfortably in the confines of a vehicle. It was like something straight out of Harry Potter. Artemis floored the accelerator and Percy's head snapped onto the seat's head rest like a magnet. He glanced over at the driver's seat and gaped at the brand on the steering wheel.

"You have a Lambo."

Artemis regarded Percy. "Yes, your eyes do not deceive you." She looked around the car with disinterest. "Thalia kept pressing me to upgrade ever since my brother let her ride his Maserati way back when. So I force—convinced Vulcan's children to help me out."

"I see." He chose to ignore her slip of the tongue.

"Do the car doors open upward?" chimed in one of the Roman kids in the back. "Ow!" He received an elbow to the gut from his companion.

"Yes, they do." Artemis returned her focus onto Percy. "Speak your mind."

The oddity of the current scenario was ever so prevalent now. But it wasn't the awkward overlap of the world of gods and the world of men that jolted him. Again, there was that feeling of familiarity.

"I don't know." Percy scratched his head. "It just...feels kinda off when I think about you and sports cars in the same vein."

The voice in the back of his head asked: _Why?_

Artemis raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to continue.

"Because being frivolous isn't like you." He blinked. That almost sounded like he knew her before today—like she was much more than the-girl-who-saved-him-from-book-club-monsters. Did the bizarre adventures of the Percy Jackson in the past entail being acquainted with a strange girl who owned Santa's Lamborghini/sleigh? Apparently so.

Artemis studied him more carefully, narrowing her eyes, her gaze—already sharper than the pen blade in Percy's pocket—now pierced his soul. "You make it sound like we've met before." That was a test. At least, her cautious tone made it sound like it was.

"Have we? I—I don't know. I...can't remember anything past the last week. But sometimes, it's like something's telling me that I _should_ know this or that." He bit his lip in frustration. Like being reminded of a dream where all the details, that were there when one is asleep, are not present when one is awake. Like trying to catch smoke with one's bare hands. Elusive and fleeting.

Artemis grimaced. "Your conscience has forgotten," she flicked his forehead. "But your soul remembers." She returned to the road—skies ahead. "I hope your amnesia gets cured, son of Neptune."

She trailed off, casting a sidelong glance at him questioningly. It took a second for Percy to realize she was looking for a name.

"Percy Jackson," Percy asserted. He still couldn't shake off the feeling of déjà vu. This girl with striking gold-silver eyes definitely knew more than she let on. But her tone of finality on the subject of his amnesia indicated she wasn't willing to tell.

"Percy," she nodded. She checked the rear-view mirror at the other two demigods in the back. "And how about you two?"

"Frank Zhang. Centurion of the fifth cohort. How fast can this thing go—ow!" He received a second elbow to the gut.

"Hazel Levesque. Centurion of the same fifth cohort. The tunnel entrance to Camp Jupiter is flooded. Can this car go underwater?"

"No need." Artemis waved, dismissively. "We'll get there by air."

"But the Mist—"

"—will not affect us." Artemis finished. "Don't worry. In the off chance we get lost, this car has GPS." She winced and put a hand to her temple.

"You okay?" Now it was Percy's turn to look concerned. He kicked himself for not considering her situation. Now that he thought about it, she must also have been running for her life before their rendezvous today. "Did you hit your head?"

Artemis shook her head. "It's fine." It didn't look fine. In fact, her condition seemed to grow worse by the second. The whites of one eye had wisps of red. Blood. She was shivering now. Her breathing, now audible, was hitched, uneven.

A dark cloud blanketed the car windows, obscuring their vision outside. And for a moment, all Percy could see were a pair of glowing silver-gold eyes, narrowed in pain. She was pushing herself. But then again, they all were. The harrowing events of the past week weighed on his shoulders as heavy as the sky. The two Roman kids were just as worse for wear, an assortment of cuts and bruises patterned their body.

Static from the car radio broke the brief, awkward silence. "We're close." She fiddled with the channel dial, perhaps trying to tune into her favorite radio station. White noise persisted but she didn't seem to mind. "Once we enter Camp perimeters, we need to get in touch with air control."

Air control? More questions.

"Buckle up."

A sheet of white loomed ahead of them like a Goliath's colossal dwelling. The fog was like a barrier, protecting what was ahead. The Lambo rammed right through it. Turbulence became the rails of the roller coaster ride that was the fortress of Mist. They hurtled onward in a sideways spiral, unable to see anything but marshmallow white and condensation on the windows.

Everyone—except Artemis—was screaming again.

Percy almost preferred the earlier Sea World ride to this. At least he had some degree of control in the water. In the air, he was a sitting duck. A sitting duck inside an extremely expensive metal cage that was flying at some ungodly speed through the blank nether.

Then, they were out. Sunlight refracted through the many droplets of water on the glass.

The stomach-churning sideways spiral continued.

Percy looked over to Artemis. Her eyes had rolled over, tears of gold ran from the side of her cheek. She was clutching her head with both hands. Her legs were drawn to her chest, no longer on the petals. Her body curled in the fetal position. It didn't look like carsickness.

He reached out to her, touching her shoulder. She gritted her teeth, regaining some fragment of consciousness, stretched one leg out and hit the brakes. Forward momentum brought Percy to kiss the windshield. He bit his tongue and cursed.

He looked over at Artemis, who was groaning, a new bruise on her forehead. Hazel and Frank were unconscious in the back, foaming at the mouth.

The radio started to blare more loudly. A voice could barely be heard through the static.

"To the pilot—kshhhh—passengers of the flying Lamborghini—kssshhh—NOT cleared for landing. If you proceed past the river—zzzzzzsssttt—shoot you down. State your ID please."

"Uh...the name is Percy Jackson. I have a Legacy and two of your soldiers with me. I ask for safe passage."

"—hostages?!" The voice sounded indignant. Percy could hear the other side conversing. "It's Gaea's forces. Prepare the artillery." The connection to Camp's air control seemed to be clearing up. But not in time to stop one possibly fatal misunderstanding.

Percy could feel his pulse rising. He moved closer to the speakers. Where was the mic? "Wait! Hold your fire. You misheard. I'm Percy Jackson, a demigod, an ally. Lupa sent me from the Wolf House." His eyes darted to each window, bracing for the aforementioned artillery.

"Then why is there a giant, winged, tentacle monster on the roof of your vehicle?"

As if on cue, tentacles slithered into view, snaking itself across the surface of the car. Percy leaned over to Artemis' side and adjusted the rear view mirrors upward. Ice filled his veins. The featureless angel grinned down at them, wings outspread, squid arm latched onto Mr. Weasley's upgraded vehicle. They had failed to shake off their pursuers. Not only that but because of Percy, they had led them straight to the headquarters of would-be allies.

Now they were stuck between friendly Roman fire and enemy Eldritch torture.

"Just stay still over there so we can blast you out of the skies. It will be quick and painless. Promise."

"Wait, what about the hostages—I mean, your soldiers?" Percy tried to reason but the transmission had ended. He looked around helplessly.

"Ugh, migraines..." Artemis muttered, still clutching her head in one hand. She weakly punched Percy's shoulder to get his attention. "You still got fuel left in that beat-up body of yours?"

"I think?" Riptide the pen felt heavy in his pocket.

A ghost of a smile crossed her lips. "Good." She produced the key fob again and pressed a button. The roof detached, discarded to the earth thousands of meters below.

This brought them face to face with their unwanted hitch hiker. Percy rose to meet it.

"Set us free." Artemis murmured, blinding light shone through half-closed eyelids. She cut the engine.

Riptide responded in a whirlwind of flashing celestial bronze that severed their suction-cup entanglement.

They fell. The winged horror shrieked in outrage and dove after them.

"Close your eyes." Artemis whispered.

Percy complied, squeezing his eyes shut from the flash bang.

...

Note: Sorry for the long absence. Going to try and update more consistently. Illustrations will have to wait. Anyway, lend an upvote and leave a comment if you enjoy the story. Feedback is always welcome. Thanks.


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